


begin again [time stamp]

by eroticgropefest (goldfishsunglasses)



Series: begin again 'verse [2]
Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-25 21:50:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13843728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldfishsunglasses/pseuds/eroticgropefest
Summary: takes place the day after the events in chapter nine





	begin again [time stamp]

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LiterallyAmazingPhan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiterallyAmazingPhan/gifts).



> HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY AMANDA!!!

I regret not informing Andrea I arrived last night when I turn my phone back on only to be hit with a barrage of new messages, each sounding more and more worried than the last.

 ** _I’m okay_** , I text back, hoping to reassure her.  ** _Things are okay now._**

**you fixed it??**

_**Not completely. But we’ll get there. I can’t talk yet though**_. My fingers hover over the keyboard as I contemplate what to say next. I don’t want to admit that I’m ill, but I also don’t feel up to talking at the moment.  ** _I’m busy._**

  
**with simon??**

**what are u doing??**

**ayyy get it bazzy**

_**Christ, Andrea.** _

_**He’s not even here right now.** _  
  
**what did u do to him**

**_Nothing. He’s just out getting me soup._ **

**soup?**

**but u hate soup**

**_Not when I’m ill._ **

**UR WHAT**

_**I got ill. Most likely from the boat ride.** _

**THE WHAT**

My head falls back on the pillow as I work to figure out how I can convey the entire story using only text, and I’m considering just calling her when Simon’s front door opens, and he shoves his way inside, arms loaded with two large paper shopping bags. I start to sit up but he shakes his head.

“I’ve got it,” he says, and grunts as he kicks the door shut behind him, nearly upsetting one of the bags.

“You’re an idiot,” I inform him. “I could’ve helped you; I’m not a bloody invalid.”

“I didn’t say you were an invalid. I just said I’ve got it.”

“You’re still an idiot.”

“Shut up and eat your soup.” Simon appears next to the bed with a bowl of what looks like vegetable soup and a spoon.

“Am I supposed to eat this in bed, then?”

He shrugs. “I don’t mind.”

I huff, but accept the bowl anyway. He sits next to me on the bed, and I feel uncomfortably vulnerable as he watches me eat. “Do you have to do that?”

“Do what?”

“Watch me eat like that.”

“Oh. Sorry, I can…I can do something else.” He starts to stand, and I roll my eyes.

“I didn’t say you have to fucking leave. Just don’t be weird.”

“I can do that,” he says, and I snort, but finish the soup anyway, even as I feel his eyes on me whenever he thinks I’m not looking. (I’d tell him off again if I weren’t so stupidly in love. But I am. So I don’t.) (At least not right now.)

When I’m done, Simon takes the bowl from me, and sets it on the side table next to our phones. The bed dips as he moves closer, and I roll onto my right side. Simon presses up against my back, resting his arm on my side, and scoots even closer. He places a quick kiss on the back of my exposed neck.

“Hi,” he whispers, like he hasn’t been next to me this entire time, “how are you feeling?”

“You know exactly how I’m feeling.”

“I really am sorry you’re poorly.” He punctuates this with another kiss to the same spot, and slips his hand underneath my shirt so that his warm palm is resting on my stomach—something that feels good on the best of days, but now the heat and gentle pressure of Simon’s hand is a welcome relief from the pain. I feel so taken care of, so loved and pampered I could cry from it.

The thought that I nearly gave this all up is enough to bring tears to my eyes, and I bury my face in the pillow so Simon doesn’t notice. Unfortunately, Simon chooses  _now_ to actually fucking be perceptive, and he makes a small distressed noise.

“Baz? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I say, and I’m not lying, not really. But Simon doesn’t seem satisfied with that answer, because he’s rolling me over onto my back and staring down at me with concern in his eyes.

“You’re crying.”

“No, I’m not,” I sniffle.

Simon frowns, and I suspect he wants to say more, but is interrupted by the sound of my phone vibrating on the table next to his bed. Andrea’s face pops up on my screen as my phone vibrates harshly. The picture is from two years ago, a selfie of me and her with our cheeks pressed close together—she’s grinning. I’m not.

(It’s my favourite picture of us.)

Simon looks confused. “Who’s that?”

“Hmm? Oh, that’s my flatmate, Andrea. Did I not mention her before?”

“You did not,” Simon says.

“Will you get that? I don’t feel like sitting up again.” Well, that, and I kind of want to see Andrea’s reaction to Simon answering my phone.

(She reacts exactly as I expected her to, with a loud shriek, followed by a thorough questioning of Simon’s intentions. He passes her test with flying colours, just as I expected him to, further reaffirming the validity of my decision to return.)

I don’t notice that I’m beginning to drop off until Simon’s shaking my shoulder gently. “She wants to know when you’re going home,” he says quietly, hesitantly, like he thinks I’d actually leave him after last night.

“Tell her I  _am_  home,” I reply. Because I am. “As long as I’m with you, I’m home.”

I barely register Andrea’s voice in the background as Simon pounces, attacking my face with kisses. I try to fight him off, but he’s insistent, and only stops when I tickle his sides.

“You idiot. Do you  _want_  to get ill?”

Simon shrugs. (Of course he does.) “You’re worth it,” he says simply, and I blush at his candid answer.

“Well then,” I say, “hang up the bloody phone and kiss me.”

He does. And he does, and he does, and he does, until we’re both dizzy from it. And when he kisses me again, I’m certain I never want to do this with anyone else for the rest of my life.

(Simon tells me he could kiss me forever, and I tell him to prove it.)

(And he does.)


End file.
